Leave Me Not
by Aearwen22
Summary: Sometimes living is harder. Sequel to "In The Dark", "Anniversary", "MidSummer", "Sanctuary", and "The World Is Changing". To understand the characters and situations, it is suggested that the other stories be read first, in order. Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

"Good evening, Elara."

Elara lowered the material in her hands into her lap. "Good evening, Sire. I wasn't expecting you."

She could hear steps approaching, and the sound of furniture moving. No doubt Elessar was pulling his chair closer to hers. "I'm not surprised," Aragorn replied easily, already sitting down, from the sound of his voice. "Legolas' message said that you had refused to let him summon me before now, but that he was ready to suffer your displeasure after your latest incident. I'm glad he sent for me, however; because from the looks of things, you need..."

"It's good to have you here," she smiled, "if for no other reason than to have news of the outside world. But you needn't worry on my behalf - I'll be fine. You'd think Legolas would be used to the trials and tribulations enjoyed by mortals by now." She sighed to herself. Of course Legolas would have summoned Aragorn after her collapse in a hallway a week earlier, a collapse for which Gelinnas, his healer, could find no outward cause. It also should have been obvious that when Gelinnas wouldn't allow her out of bed for more than trips to the privy or the baths, she was being nursed and coddled until her official healer arrived.

Aragorn was silent for a moment. "I doubt he expected to see this particular malady from you, since it normally applies more to his own kind than ours. Besides, Elves are tender-hearted souls who tend to worry a great deal and summon healers at need," the King quipped, "especially when their charges fall senseless in the middle of a busy walkway."

Though he might be High King in Minas Anor, Elara never perceived Aragorn as anything than a healer when he came to Ithilien. He never treated her with anything but respect and courtesy, and never allowed her to treat him as anything more than just another member of Legolas' Elven household. His visits were infrequent as a rule, but once the formalities of letting him assess her condition as a healer were concluded, he would become the good friend.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised he'd send for you," Elara sighed gently and placed the slender metal needle into the fabric in such a way that it would be easy to find again and then topped it with her rawhide thimble. "I just think he worries too much about me when he has a realm to run."

Legolas, for all his light-heartedness and soft-spoken ways, was very much Thranduil's son. He had his father's slyly twisted sense of humor, Thranduil's dedication and loyalty to his lands and the Elves who called him "Lord," and, sadly, his father's ability to sink into almost inconsolable moods, especially when the sea-longing would take hold. The similarities between father and son had made the necessary move from Eryn Lasgalen a little easier, and wrenching at the same time. She had been grateful when Legolas had gladly taken her, grieving and blind, into his hall; and she knew he'd worked patiently to try to make her once more find reason to smile in a land far away from where she'd left her heart.

No doubt he was beginning to worry now, for his efforts had little effect in the five years she'd been in residence. Elara tended to remain silent and withdrawn more often than not, and she knew she was difficult to lure out to join the community at the evening meals without a direct invitation and determined escort. And while she had joined the circle of seamstresses and broideresses and worked diligently for the good of the realm, she rarely spoke to anyone beyond the necessary.

"Be reasonable. He takes his promise to his father to safeguard your welfare very seriously, as do I; and your collapse tells him he needs to give you more attention, not less." Aragorn's hand reached out for hers, as she expected - his fingers lingering on her pulse. "Tell me, now: how is your appetite?"

"I eat enough," she answered quickly. She had long since lost any interest in eating any more than absolutely necessary, and she knew she had probably lost weight since the last time Aragorn saw her.

"To barely keep you alive, you mean," was the wry response. "With all due respect, a stiff wind would blow you half-way to Rohan. I spoke to the cook in the kitchens, incidentally, so I know how much you are and aren't eating. Are you in pain?"

"No, Sire," she replied easily. "I tire walking back and forth from my apartment to the solar where the seamstresses meet of a day now, and lately I sometimes find it hard to catch my breath, but there is no pain."

"If you ate more, this would not be an issue; and I told you, Elara, my name is Aragorn. Save the formal title for when you come to visit Minas Tirith."

"It isn't right that a wood-gatherer's daughter should be on such an informal basis with the High King of..."

Aragorn snorted and shushed her protest brusquely. "You are no mere wood-gatherer's daughter, and haven't been since the day the Elves found you in that burned-out village, and you know it. Besides, if I ever treated you as if you were a common wood-gatherer's wife or daughter, I'd not only lose my refuge from the Gondorian court here but have the army of Eryn Lasgalen pounding at the gates of my City demanding satisfaction. My mother didn't raise me to be a fool."

Aragorn scooted his chair closer yet, and Elara flinched in surprise when his long fingers began seeking the place in her neck where her pulse could be sensed and then resting there for a long moment. "Have I ever told you what happened when I finally met with King Thranduil in Eryn Lasgalen after the war, not too long after you arrived here in Ithilien? He threatened to put my 'obscenely round' ears - as he called them - in a glass jar on his desk for endangering his son years ago on the Quest! I'm certain you remember what a loud voice he has when he gets angry..."

Elara snorted. That sounded very much like the Thranduil she knew and loved.

"I learned that day _never_ to cross him or endanger anyone he cares about - and you..."

Elara shook her head. "Let's not discuss that, please" She leaned her head back and let that action hide her swallowing back tears that came all too easily nowadays.

Aragorn's gentle touch on her upper arm told her that he understood. "And yet, that's what this is all about, isn't it? When all is said and done, Elara, there's very little I can do to help the underlying causes of your affliction. I'm sorry."

"I know," she whispered, her eyes closed in an effort to rein in her emotions yet again. "It's not your fault."

It hurt to think of Thranduil more than once in a day. Five years she had been in Ithilien now, five long, lonesome, agonizing years had passed since leaving Eryn Lasgalen. But once safely removed to Ithilien, she discovered her situation had not improved at all, but gotten genuinely worse. She still listened futilely for Thranduil's deep voice to echo through the hall and waited for a soft brush against the back of her mind that told her he cared - a mental caress that, by mutual agreement, he no longer made so as not to injure her further. The lack of his physical presence, which would have otherwise balanced those insubstantial things she'd lost, proved corrosive, however; and gradually a hole opened in her heart that, unless something changed drastically, would eventually claim her life.

"Legolas fears you are finally fading, and I am going to have to tell him that he's correct."

"I know," Elara said again in a soft voice. She had already accepted this; it was taking those around her a little longer to understand, that was all. "Perhaps it's for the best, though." She brushed at the gentle hand, knocking it from its probing and testing. "Enough. There is little left in this world for me now."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're very young yet..."

She laughed, her voice brittle in her own ears. "To you, perhaps. But then, you're Dúnedain, with the blood of the Firstborn in you and more than thrice my age already. But the number of years I carry makes no difference. I know the seasons of my life are nearly spent now, and I think I'm glad of it."

"What do you expect me to tell Thranduil?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Tell him nothing. He needs no further worries to clutter his day."

Aragorn sighed, and she knew he would write anyway, despite her wishes. "There is a tea I want you to use..."

"Aragorn." Elara's voice was soft and serene and absolute. "No."

"Listen to me! It isn't a cure or even an attempt at one - you and I both know there _is_ no cure for you that can come from a healer's pouch - but this draught will ease you when your heart labors too hard." Aragorn had her hand again, holding it tightly and putting all his considerable powers of persuasion to work. "Indulge your sovereign, please? Take the tea when you falter, and let it soothe you."

It was Elara's turn to sigh. "You're only prolonging the inevitable, you know."

"On the contrary, I'm soothing those hurts that I know can be addressed with medicine. Why suffer needlessly when ease is so readily available? If you are determined to fade, nothing will stop you. All this will do is to make things less painful in the meanwhile."

She sighed again. She should know better than to argue with him - with any King, for that matter. "You're impossible."

She could hear Aragorn breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. "As if you are any less impossible yourself. You and Thranduil must have made quite the pair, I'm sorry I missed it. Here." He took one hand, turned it over and put a small, linen pouch in it. "Keep this with you. I'll give instructions to Gelinnas for making more. Steep the contents of this pouch for three minutes in a mug of boiling water, then add cold water until you can finish the whole thing quickly. Expect to sleep for a few hours, and awaken without pain."

Elara nodded. Legolas' healer would make certain she was kept well-stocked with this newest medicine, whether she wanted it or not. "So. Are you finished with the poking and prodding now?"

She felt Aragorn back off a bit, then heard him chuckle again. "And they say healers make the worst patients. Yes, I'm finished."

"Good." Elara smiled again and leaned forward in his direction to feel for and then grasp his hand in her empty one. "Now you can tell me all your news. Tell me about little Eldarion. He must be getting so big now! And what news of the hobbits? Are Arwen and the baby with you this time?"

These were things that she knew Aragorn would speak about freely and gladly, and were the best way to move past this necessary fussing to get to the kind of chatter that would take her mind off of the dull ache in her chest that simply didn't want to go away anymore. With any luck at all, she wouldn't need his herbs too often before the end. But in the meanwhile, she would enjoy her visit with her friend.

oOoOo

The sweetness of Spring progressed smoothly into the warm stillness of Summer, past a quiet MidSummer celebration spent sitting contentedly alone in a private garden rather than at the edge of a crowd of dancing Elves that reminded her a little too much of dancing in another wood far to the north, and then moved into the growing chill of Autumn.

The late Autumn morning had dawned with the oppressive warmth of a left-over Summer day, and Elara decided to spend the day outside. Now that she could no longer walk the corridors to join the sewing circle, her work had been brought to her room and then reclaimed in the evening; and after several very chilly days, it would be pleasant to spend her time sewing with the warmth of the sun on her face. She donned a knitted shawl that would keep her warm should the breeze rise, gathered her day's work and shuffled through the door and out onto the flagstones of the private garden she shared with Legolas himself.

There was a grand old oak tree on the very edge of the garden that abutted Elara's apartment, and Elara slowly made her way around the boundary of the garden to it, following and leaning hard on the low rail Legolas had installed to help guide her steps. She carefully laid the pile of sewing materials on the ground at her feet, then unfolded the thin blanket she had retrieved from the chest at the foot of her bed and shook it out, letting it fall to the ground as it would. Then she sank to her knees onto it, felt around until she had her sewing work gathered into her lap, and then let her back rest against the sturdy trunk with a tired sigh. This walk was almost beyond her now too; another small joy to let go of as she stepped back from life. She would enjoy her time in the garden today all the more for it being her last time, she decided.

Only here, leaning against this particular tree, could she sense that subtle pulsing that had been so easily felt in the Greenwood. Legolas, as his father had done before him on a MidSummer's day years earlier, had tried to introduce her to the trees of Ithilien; but only this one oak continued to speak to her when she was alone. Since then, the friendly oak had become her refuge within a refuge. She came here now on warmer days to sew, to dream, to remember, to grieve and weep, and to rest a mind weary of the trivial banter that only loosely concerned her.

The oak comforted her as best it could, its voice almost too soft to be heard clearly, but its intentions and sympathy made a seat at its base a favorite place for a displaced and heart-sick mortal. She'd already decided that when the time came, this would be where she would ask Legolas to let her body rest until the breaking of the world, the one place most like where she'd left her heart. Knowing she would return here eventually helped make the thought of not returning here again on her own power a bit less painful.

As she relaxed and let the sounds of the garden soothe her to the extent that they could, she could hear the distant sound of excitement that normally accompanied the arrival of a visitor to the hall. Elara had heard nothing from either Gelinnas or Legolas of anyone being expected, so she sighed and let go of the thought. Whoever it was would be of no concern of hers, and it was easy enough nowadays to stay in her apartment and avoid any and all guests entirely. Strangely enough, the tree against which she leaned seemed to stir slightly as well, although not enough to keep her from slipping into a light doze. It was so easy to fall sleep while sewing nowadays, and so much more peaceful to stay that way. Perhaps one day she'd fall asleep and never wake up again - but in the meanwhile, she'd enjoy the dreams.

The dream that took her this warm day was her favorite. Her nose filled with the scent of warm forest and sweet, fresh-cut grass, and she seemed to move from the darkness of sleep to hear the steady thrumming of a heartbeat in her ear. Then it was as if she was back in the depths of the Elvenking's hall, in a chair in front of a crackling fire on a cold, stormy winter night, snuggled comfortably into Thranduil's warm arms. She had relived that precious moment of time wherein she and her Elven lord had laid their hearts open to the other many, many times since that night, each time coming away from the memory both comforted and grieving.

It was odd, however, for her to have such dreams on warm autumn afternoons.

Still, she wasn't above making the most of it, for the dreams about that defining moment in her life rarely lasted much longer than the actual moment in time had lasted in reality, and she hadn't dreamed this dream for well over a year. She drew in a deep breath of that much-loved scent that even after five years still meant security and caring and then let it go in a sigh of contentment. "Thranduil," she murmured very softly, speaking to her dream. "You haven't visited me like this for a long time."

The arms that held her stiffened for a moment and then pulled her just a little closer. "Oh, Elara _nîn_!" replied a deep voice that she only barely remembered while awake and yet thrilled to hear in her dreams, "I came as soon as I could." The regret and sadness in that rich voice shimmered like a jewel spinning in the air.

Elara shook her head against the soft suede of his tunic - wait, didn't he normally wear a velvet robe and silken sleeping shirt in the dream, just as he had that night? "Don't worry," she mumbled, deciding not to worry about dream trivialities. She took in another deep breath of the beloved scent and settled a bit more comfortably against the solid chest. "Now let's just get on with the dream, shall we? You know this is the only thing that comforts me anymore."

"My poor gift! I have been such an inadequate steward for you," the deep voice grieved over her, still refusing to follow known and expected paths of conversation. "I promised to share the seasons of your life; and instead, I squandered our precious time together. Look at you - you're barely more than a shadow!"

"You didn't say anything like that back then," Elara grumbled and shifted slightly against the restraining arms in frustration, swatting lightly at the oddly-garbed chest. "Stop it. This is supposed to be my favorite memory."

"I am no memory, no dream, Elara. I'm real. Awaken now," the deep voice called to her.

"I don't want to," she complained, snuggling tighter to her dream-Thranduil's chest as if it would protect her. "When I am awake, I'm always alone. I don't want to be alone anymore."

"No longer, my gift. Awaken. I'm here. You're not alone." The arms that held her shook her gently.

Elara frowned, rousing slightly. This wasn't the way her comfortable last day beneath her oak was supposed to go. Already she felt bereft, denied the one dream she craved above all others. "Hmmm?"

_Elara nîn. Awaken, please. _ The deep mental voice resonated clearly in the corners of her mind that had for too long been silent.

That definitely didn't belong to any familiar dream, and she once more tried to stir - only to find herself restrained in fact. It took waking up a little further to realize that she really was being held by someone, and held tightly. "What?" she whimpered, pulling her arms to her body defensively and then pushing against the one who held her. "Who... Let me go..."

"Hush, you are safe." Lips trailed across her forehead as they had once so long ago. "It is I, Elara. I'm here."

"Thran... Thranduil?" She breathed in again, and the scent of warm forest and fresh-cut grass still hung close in the air, although now accompanied by what she suspected was the scent of sweaty horse and plenty of dust. It seemed impossible, but the intrusion of scents that normally didn't belong to her dream began to convince her that she truly wasn't dreaming. "You're really here? This isn't..." Then she was in motion, turning swiftly in his embrace and throwing her arms around his neck and holding on tightly, not caring in the least that she wasn't supposed to do this. "Thranduil!"

"Elara!" he sighed and breathed out a sigh of relief as he clasped her tightly to him in return, his face buried in her neck.

She wasn't listening to anything except the rich timbre of the deep voice she had thought never to hear again except in dreams, and she sobbed at the thought that this might be nothing more than the consequence of too much sun. Suddenly it was overwhelming, and the dull ache in her chest blossomed into white-hot agony. Elara let out a strangled cry and fell back, hands clutching at her chest, struggling to breathe.

Thranduil heaved beneath her, catching her up in his arms with a cry of his own that turned into an agonized bellow for his son as he ran with Elara toward the hall. She heard Legolas try to soothe his father as he rushed past him into the still and somewhat cooler air of an apartment that hadn't quite warmed yet in the unseasonable weather. "I had Gelinnas prepare for this possibility the moment I heard you had arrived. There is a draught ready for her that should give her ease. This has happened before. Sit down, Father - no, it's better if you hold her sitting upright for now. It helps her to breathe. I'll fetch the draught for you."

For once, Elara was grateful for the dreadful-tasting concoction that Aragorn prescribed for her. Thranduil settled her once more into his lap, held the mug to her lips until she'd swallowed the entire contents, and then cradled her head against his shoulder with a long-fingered hand, alternately murmuring reassurances to her and berating himself for something she didn't quite understand. She knew that the draught made her sleepy rather quickly, but fought it. "S..s..sorry," she managed finally. "N..no way t..to greet..."

"Don't try to talk," the King hushed at her. "Rest. We'll talk later, when you feel better."

With no energy to do otherwise, Elara relaxed into an embrace she'd believed she'd never know again - her grip on the soft suede of his tunic her one concession to her fear that this truly was nothing more than a dream. What was he doing here? Why had he come? Did it matter? He was here, and he was holding her as he had that night. As the expected slumber began to numb her mind, she stirred. "D...don't leave..." she whispered.

"I will be here when you awaken, I promise," he reassured her. "Sleep now."

oOoOo

It was like reliving the dream, coming up through the black and dreamless slumber to the warmth and security of arms about her and the steady pulsing of an immortal heart in her ear. This time, however, there was the rumble of voices speaking congenially about trees and the health of the land; one deep and rich and resonating against her ear, the other a softer baritone a short distance away. Both voices were familiar to her, but she loved the former so much, it hurt. She stirred, reaching up and wrapping her fingers tightly around the collar of a soft suede tunic to convince herself once more that he was really there and not a construct of her imagination.

"I think she's waking at last," Legolas said, his voice lowered, "and I imagine you will want some time alone with her. At dusk I will have a light supper sent up for her, and a helping from the bounty of our hall prepared for you as well."

"Many thanks_. _I will also want a bath eventually, before Elara tells me I stink of horse and dusty road or you have me heaved out of your hall as a health hazard," Thranduil replied, and Elara felt his hand leave its resting place at her waist to cover her hand where it clung to him and hold it in place gently. "Where are the baths from here?"

"I will have water put to heat. You need only speak to one of the servants, and they will direct you to your room and see to your needs. Do you have more than just the two bundles here that I need take to your chamber?"

"Nay. I have no intentions of attending court or playing King while I'm here, so I brought only as much as I could comfortably carry. My sole concern was to get here before..." His hand tightened around Elara's.

Legolas' voice held an ocean of sympathy. "I understand completely, Father. I shall see you later, perhaps?"

"Tomorrow, more likely. It has been a long journey, and I am more fatigued than I expected. I have not been that long on horseback in more than an Age." Thranduil sounded more than a little chagrined. "I am frankly amazed my legs still work and support me when I stand."

Legolas gave a low chuckle. "I shall bid you good day and night, then. May you both find peace in your reunion, for I fear you look almost in as much need of her company as I know she is of yours, Father."

"You have no idea." Thranduil's voice thickened from what must have been strong emotions. "Thank you, my son - for everything."

There was a soft click from the direction of the door that told her that Legolas had left the room. Thranduil ran a very gentle finger down her cheek. "Welcome back to the waking world. How do you feel?"

"As if I had labored all day in the sun," Elara admitted with a rueful smile. "But better." She breathed in his scent. "I'm still not entirely sure I'm not dreaming you here, however. How... Why?"

His long fingers teased back the tendrils of hair that framed her face. "Aragorn wrote to warn me you were becoming quite fragile, and that he could do little for you. Legolas' message, which arrived the same day, by the way, was far more blunt. He told me you were fading quickly now in a despair that had only grown worse in your time here, and that if I ever wanted to see you alive again, I had best make my way to Ithilien soon."

Elara wondered that he seemed unable to keep from touching her, running his fingers over her face over and over again as if memorizing it by touch as well as by sight. "You were supposed come here to heal, my gift, not fade away and die," he chided her sadly. "Had I known this was the state you would be in after such a short time here, I would never have allowed you to leave Eryn Lasgalen in the first place."

"We agreed..." she began, her voice thick with emotions that she dared not voice.

"Yes, we did," Thranduil admitted. "However, the fact remains that I sent you here to protect you from that which was making you fade, not to make you fade faster."

"I would have faded in your hall too, Thranduil," Elara reminded him gently, "and that was the point. You made me promise..."

"Don't speak to me of the promises I made us both make," he growled and suddenly pulled her very close into his arms. "They were cruel and extreme, and bitter medicine, even for me. To think I have almost killed you..." His voice filled with horror.

"This is not your doing, but mine," she shook her head against his shoulder. "I had no idea that leaving you would be so much worse than staying and having you out of reach." She moved her arms to hold him back a little and rested her cheek against the dusty suede, choosing to let go of the grief of separation in favor of fully enjoying the fleeting moment of togetherness. Surely it wouldn't last long. "To think I get one more of our never-to-happen-again moments is a miracle and comfort to me. It will make my last days..."

His hold on her tightened almost to the point of being painful. "Speak not of that. You will not fade, my gift. I won't allow it."

Elara shook her head. "I don't know that I can stop it now," she told him gently. "My life has little meaning anymore. I have no reason to continue and haven't for several years now. Best that I let go; perhaps I will find more happiness past the circles of the world. It is a comfort that I at least get the opportunity to farewell the one I love best."

"This is wrong," Thranduil's voice broke as he loosened his hold on her. "I should never have set us so far apart, my gift. Obliging us both to ignore what was in our hearts was to demand a step too far. It did not have to be that way, I know this now. It does not have to be that way any longer. Please..."

"Thranduil." Elara reached up a hand and her fingertips ghosted over the soft, warm skin of his cheek. "My doom was sealed the moment I admitted to myself and you that I had fallen in love with you. Although I knew better, I would always want that which I would be denied." Her arm grew too heavy to hold up, and it fell back into her lap. "I still know better, and even now find myself unable to stop wanting what rightfully belongs to Lalaith."

"Can you not at least try to stay, for me?" he asked in a small voice, telling Elara how upset he really was. "Can we not work together to find a middle ground where I can give you as much as I can and accept your giving me as much as can be allowed, so that you can find some joy in life again and remain in this world for your full allotment of days?"

"I will always want more than you will be willing to give me," she sighed, wishing she could make him understand the depth of her pain. "I will always want _you_. That will never change."

"You can have me, in all ways save the one that belongs to Lalaith alone," Thranduil insisted, his distress mounting. "I will no longer compel you to hold your peace about your emotions, nor will I remain silent any longer about mine for you. I will not oblige you to keep your distance or to withhold your touch from me in our private moments together, nor will I withhold mine from you. Please, Elara, do not walk this dark path where I cannot follow. Not yet!"

Elara lay in his arms, stunned. "You're serious," she said after a long moment.

"I am." A warm splash of wetness landed on her forehead that told her that her Elvenking - the proud, capricious, headstrong and arrogant ruler who had determinedly led his Elven Realm to survive Sauron's wrath with no help from anyone else - was weeping. "I give you my oath, Elara; we can share our love even though we will never share a passion that would betray Lalaith. Do not so easily let go of this life, I beg you."

"Thranduil." His grief was tearing at her, and her own tears spilled freely onto her cheeks. "I will walk that dark path one day, whether that day be tomorrow or many years from now. I am mortal; I _will_ leave you someday. You knew this from the start."

"I know," he gulped and cradled her cheek with a huge hand that was actually shaking as his thumb brushed at her tears. "But many years from now, if you can but turn back to me, I will have a great share of memories of our time together to hold close and give me as much comfort as is possible to give to one who will miss you until the breaking of the world. But if you leave me now, not only will I miss you forever, but I will know that you left me far too soon, and that I am the cause of your death. I don't know..." His voice broke, and Elara heard him swallow several times before he could continue. "I don't know that I would long survive you in that case."

"That isn't fair," she complained, her voice wavering. "You have a realm that needs you strong and well, and alive. You should spend your time and energy on Eryn Lasgalen, not worry about a world-weary mortal woman who can't even see her hand before her own face. Don't make this harder for me than..."

"Elara, hear me. My son will leave this world when Elessar dies. My wife left me two thousand years ago. My father, my brothers, they all left before that. Many whom I called friend either died in the War or left for the Havens with Galadriel. All whom I have loved best, except you and Legolas, are beyond my reach; and I am oath-bound to remain behind, no matter what else happens. The Valar gave you to me to give me the strength to hold on as the age of the Elves waned; and to teach me how to survive the last of the blows I must bear alone when Legolas takes the ship West. I know I have done a poor job of caring for you of late, but I beg one more opportunity to make things right." Another warm splash from above hit her nose.

"I don't have the energy to keep the two of us alive," she whispered, overwhelmed. "I can't even summon the strength to sit up and be angry with you for trying to shift responsibility for _your _life to _me_ in this way."

"I don't expect you to keep us both alive. I have more than enough strength for the both of us, if only you will try to accept what I'm offering," Thranduil whispered back, his lips against her hair. "Please, my gift. Be angry with me if you must, but be angry _here_, in _this_ world. Let me help you, let me help you get well again. Turn away from the path you are treading and come back to the light - and me. And once you are well, I will take you home with me where you belong, where your absence has been felt by others and not just me."

Home to Eryn Lasgalen, where the trees spoke to her willingly and protected her; where she had first found her place among the Elves. The very idea pulled at her heart. "I would like to go home someday, Thranduil," she said very softly.

"Then we must make you well enough to endure the journey," the deep voice stated with emotion-thickened conviction, obviously working hard to find stability again. "I sent word to Gondor about my intentions just before leaving for Ithilien. Aragorn should send word very soon with his ideas for aiding in your recovery, or I'll know the reason why."

Elara turned her face into his chest and sighed, feeling the weight of her grief fall away just a little. "After all this time..." she mused aloud, clutching at the suede as tightly as she could. "I have missed you so." Her voice broke again.

"And I have missed you, my gift - desperately." His arms folded around her again, and he bent his lips to her ear. "I love you, Elara _nîn_ - and I always will, unto the breaking of the world and beyond. Never again will you go a day without hearing that, I swear it to you."

She opened her mouth to respond, and then paused - the words caught in her throat. "I promised I would never say it again..."

"I release you from that cruel oath, and everything else that we agreed that night," Thranduil growled into her ear. "We shall make new oaths, you and I, better ones. But Valar forgive me, right now I need to hear you..."

She needed no further enticement, and the words sprang from her lips. "I love you too, Thranduil - and I always will."

With that, the hole in her heart - the one that had bled loneliness and sorrow and stolen her will to live since the day she'd ridden away from Thranduil's hall - closed a bit. There was no promise that she could regain all that she had lost, but in that moment, in her Elvenking's arms, she knew she could but try. They both deserved another chance.


	2. Chapter 2

"That's enough. No more, please."

"Be reasonable, Elara. I couldn't keep a sick mouse kit alive on the little bit you've eaten. You must have more. I insist."

Elara put up a defensive hand and connected with the large hand holding the mug of rich broth, pushing it away. "Already I have had more than I've had in one sitting for weeks, Thranduil..."

"I care not. You need to eat. I may be no healer, but even I can see that much of your weakness is from simple hunger. You will have another good swallow, at least; and another goodly bite of bread before I will allow you to say finished." Thranduil's voice was determined, but she could hear the note of frustration behind it. She was still amazed that he had insisted that she stay in his lap and allow him to feed her, as if she were a total invalid or an infant. Of course, she probably wouldn't have had the strength to lift the mug of broth on her own anyway after her chest pain. It usually took at least a day to fully recover from one, but it was still a little humbling to be so shamelessly coddled.

"It won't stay down," she warned.

"Yes, it will," he replied firmly. "You have reason to keep it down now, and I am confident you will win the battle against your stomach this night." He raised the mug again. "One more swallow, now."

She turned her head away. "What about you?"

"I shall eat when I am certain you have had your full share." He touched the mug to her lips insistently. "Stop talking and swallow."

Elara opened her mouth to complain yet again, and found herself with a mouthful of the rich broth instead. She heard the Elvenking chuckle at the surprise and outrage she was certain was on her face, but swallowed the liquid automatically despite her already sated appetite. It was good to hear Thranduil laugh. His laugh had always brought her spirits up, even in those latter days in Eryn Lasgalen when... No. She wouldn't think of that. He was chuckling now, and she would simply enjoy the sound of his humor. It had been one of the many things about him that she had missed desperately.

"You enjoy being a bully, I think," she said instead.

"Nonsense. I merely enjoy seeing you hale and strong, and am willing to do whatever it takes to make that a reality again," he countered quite unapologetically. "If that means I end up having to bully you into fighting for your own life, then so be it. The great and cruel Elvenking has his reputation to consider, after all, even this far from the Greenwood. Now, will you take your bite of bread willingly, or must I use strategy with that as well?"

"Tyrant."

"Absolutely. Proud of it too. Open."

Elara sighed and did as she was told, to find that the morsel of bread placed on her tongue had been thoroughly soaked in more of the broth. She swallowed what had been given her anyway, since arguing with the Elvenking wasn't getting her very far. She pointedly leaned back against him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Happy now?"

"No," he replied in blunt honesty. "I would far rather see you finish all of the broth and bread - there wasn't much of it to begin with - but I shall take that as a short-term goal to be tackled on the morrow and be satisfied with what you have eaten for this night." He deposited a kiss on her forehead. " I truly do not enjoy forcing you to eat, Elara."

"You're the only person I'd let get away with it," she mumbled and turned into him further. "There. I'm done. You need to eat now, too. You should set me in my own chair so..."

"I will release my hold on you in my own good time," he promised. "In the meanwhile, I can eat one-handed." Elara felt him reaching with the hand that wasn't involved in holding her close, and she heard the sound of dishes being moved on the small side table that the servant had placed near at the Elvenking's hand. "You should see what Legolas sent up for me. Such fare I have not had for a very long time."

"His people keep his table well-stocked," Elara remembered. "His cooks prepare several interesting dishes I'd never had before in your hall, as I remember."

"Dishes you enjoyed?" The sound of cutlery against the plate now accompanied the movement of his arm and body.

"I suppose," she hedged. In truth, it had been so long since food had held any appeal for her, she had forgotten.

"I shall have to speak to the cooks then, once you are eating more normally, to find things to tempt your palate." Elara heard him chewing, and then he exclaimed, "Oh! This fish is delicious! Are you certain I could not tempt you with just the tiniest morsel?"

"Thranduil..."

"Just the thinnest of flakes, I swear." She felt something soft and warm pressed against her lips. "Try it."

Elara breathed out a sigh through her nose, knowing that the moment she opened her mouth to turn his offer down, he'd slip the fish in, no matter what she said. She made him wait a bit, knowing him to be more than able to understand what she was telling him without words, and then opened her mouth for him. He was right - the fish was delicious. "It _is_ good," she agreed reluctantly.

"If you want another morsel, you will have to tell me before I finish it," he warned, the satisfaction in his voice at cajoling this further food into her very obvious even as he filled his own mouth again.

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied dryly. "You need your supper though, after your long journey. I'm finished, remember?"

"I am not the one trying to starve myself to death, Elara," he pointed out just as dryly after swallowing, and remained silent while eating the rest of his meal. Elara was glad of the lull in conversation; it allowed her to rest against him and simply soak up his presence, his touch, without distraction. Silences between them had never been uncomfortable ones before, and this one was no different. Then: "I have decided the last piece is yours after all. Open."

"You're impossible," she managed after she'd chewed and swallowed a much more substantial bite of the delicate fish. Her stomach wasn't used to the load it was being asked to hold, but strangely enough, although she was approaching uncomfortably full, there was no nausea, no sign that she would lose it. Maybe he was right, that having a reason to keep it down made the difference.

"The proper word is determined," Thranduil answered, settling back into the comfortable chair and pulling her more comfortably against him. "I will accept nothing less than a complete recovery from you." His huge hand cradled her head against his shoulder as another long and comfortable moment of silence stretched between them. "I suppose that as much as I am enjoying this, I should probably call whoever it is that helps you prepare for bed and get myself out of these filthy travel clothes and into a hot bath."

"Probably. You need your rest too, Sire," Elara murmured at him, half-asleep and comfortable with her almost too full tummy adding to the feeling of contentment.

"Were it not that I am beginning to offend even myself, I could easily stay like this the entire night..."

"And shock your son, no doubt," she shook her head against his shoulder and hand. "I've had enough food that I'm getting sleepy. If you would put me in the comfortable chair by the hearth, I can await Gelinnas."

"That is the healer, is it not?"

"Yes. She takes care of me the way Míriel used to." Elara stirred. "Did anyone bring my sewing in from the garden?"

"I shall bring it to you before I leave," Thranduil sighed. "And I suppose I should go, shouldn't I?"

"Do you really want me to tell you that you stink of horse and dusty road?"

Thranduil's chest began shaking, and then he broke out into a full laugh. "You were more awake than I thought after all. You heard that?"

"It was a nice way to wake up, after all this time," Elara said with a hitch to her voice. The thought that, however temporarily, he was leaving her... "Must I bid you good night then?"

Thranduil was silent for a moment. "I think, provided I do not offend you overmuch yet, I can wait until Gelinnas arrives before letting go of you. I am not uncomfortable like this, and you are more than welcome to sleep in my arms until she comes. I may very well doze with you. It has been a very long and emotional day for us both; and I find I am most comforted by having you close." He bent and kissed her forehead. "Sleep, my gift, and know that I will be here for you when you awaken."

"This has to be a dream," she whispered to herself.

"No, I am no dream. Just a much chastened Elf who has learned the hard way that love denied is its own kind of evil." His arms pulled her very close to him. "I am so sorry I put you through all this, Elara."

"I love you, Thranduil," she whispered as she slipped an arm around his neck and held him back.

"Elara _nîn, le melon_," he whispered back, his large hand cradling her head against his.

She tucked her nose into the hollow below his ear and rested her head on his shoulder, her face hidden in the fragrant curtain of his hair. This was better than any dream - this was real.

He shifted in his seat once more so that he could hold her more comfortably in that very close embrace. Elara took a deep breath of warm forest, fresh-cut grass, sweaty horse and road dust and promptly fell fast asleep in his arms.

oOoOo

Elara roused and listened carefully. The Elven voices that never seemed to sleep had dwindled to just a pair of voices that wove melody and descant back and forth, their paean to Elbereth as delicate as an autumn breeze through falling leaves. She was in her warm bed, her hair had been combed and braided, and she wore a fresh-smelling sleeping gown. Gelinnas had been very careful and very thorough; she hadn't even known when she'd been prepared for sleep. Had she?

She awoke further and sighed. It was another night, like all the others in her time here in Ithilien, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Elara's breath caught in her throat at the idea that she had been dreaming after all. She had allowed her desperate wish to hear her Elvenking's voice once more while she was still in the world to carry her off into waking dreams that had seemed all too real - until she awoke. And, as always happened when she allowed such things to happen, she paid for such dreams with tears. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest.

Then, from somewhere very close by, she heard stirring and then a deep voice. "Are you well? Do you require assistance?"

Thranduil! He really _was_ here! She relaxed back into her pillow, fighting sobs of relief as the tightness in her chest slowly eased. "I was afraid it all had been nothing more than a very nice dream," she managed through a thick voice. "But you're really here, aren't you? I didn't just dream you..."

"I told you I would be here when you awakened," the Elvenking replied, and Elara felt the bed at her side dip beneath his weight as he sat down next to her. "But you should sleep through the night undisturbed. What awakened you?"

She ignored his question. "What time is it? It's quite late, isn't it?"

"Yes." Gentle fingers moved escaped tendrils of hair from near her mouth. "The dawn is hours from now."

"What are you doing here, then? I thought you'd be resting in your own chamber after your bath." He must have bathed, the scent of horse and dust was definitely missing now from the normal smell of warm forest and fresh-cut grass.

"I wanted to watch over you," he confessed. "I tried to rest in my own chamber, but found I could not relax." His hand framed her face. "I must confess that I feared that you would slip away from me in the night, despite everything, so I had to come, to do whatever I could to make certain you were still here with me when the morning came."

"I'm not going anywhere," she complained.

"I know that is what I ordered you to do, and what I most dearly wish to happen, but I am also a practical man. I know that you stand at the very edge of the circles of the world. And if it is your time to step beyond, I would not have you do so alone." He bent over her and kissed her cheek.

Elara smiled. Every one of his actions since he'd reappeared in her life was like balm spreading over a spirit that was burned and raw. "I may stand at the brink now," she promised him, "but I want to turn back. Now that you're here, I have a reason to stay in this world again."

"I rejoice to hear that. Sleep, then; rest and let the food you ate earlier restore you." The huge hand stroked back her hair from her face. "I will be right here in the morning, ready to do battle to pull you back from that brink - inch by desperate inch, if need be. As a matter of fact..." Elara felt him rise from where he was sitting, and then suddenly the bed dipped on the other side of her as he settled himself next to her, stretching out his long legs over the top of her blankets. "Come here," he whispered and gathered her into his arms as she shifted toward him, settling her head on his chest as he lay back into the pillows. "We will both rest better this way, I think."

"You'll be cold," she worried, although she was more than happy to stretch out an arm across his chest to hold him back.

"I do not feel the cold as you do. You should remember that from the last time we were alone in the night together," he soothed, brushing his lips across her forehead. "Worry not about me. Sleep now."

"But what will Gelinnas think..."

"Shhhh...." Gentle fingers pressed against her lips. "The opinions of others are the least of my worries. Your well-being is the only thing that matters to me at the moment. So I shock your healer - such will not injure me, and Gelinnas will survive, I assure you. After all, I helped prepare you for bed last night while you were so deeply asleep; and although I believe she was... unprepared... for my assistance, it did not seem to cause her any real distress."

"But Legolas..."

He sighed. "I will explain myself to my son long before any issue arises, never fear; although I have a feeling he understands better than either of us think he does." She felt him tugging on her blankets so that her shoulders were more fully covered. "Now, will you stop worrying on my behalf and go back to sleep? Please?"

"Thranduil..."

The chest below her ear finally began to shake as a chuckle rumbled up from deep within. "Elara_ nîn_, if there is one thing that gives me hope that I will one day bring you home to Eryn Lasgalen hale and strong, it is that you are every bit as stubborn as I am. I swear, when you are determined, you will let nothing or no one hold you back from what you wish. So speak - say what you need to say - so that you can relax once it is said."

Elara pressed her face into his chest in chagrin. Indeed, he had disarmed every last protest she'd mustered, leaving her with very little to say. "Good night?" she managed, and then began giggling in response.

At that, he laughed softly and kissed her forehead again. "Good night, my gift," he replied and settled her tightly into his embrace. "The stars guard your dreams this night."

"I have you guarding them," she whispered, almost giddy at the dramatic change in their relationship. Not once had she dared dream that the day - or night - would come when she would lay in his arms like _this_.

And once more she took in a deep breath, and the smells that meant safety and security enfolded themselves into her very being and eased her back into a soft and dreamless slumber.

oOoOo

"Merciful Elbereth!"

"At last!" Thranduil carefully slipped his arm out from behind Elara and rose to greet the High King of Gondor. "You took your time getting here, Elrondion."

"Had I known..." The way the bed dipped, Elara knew that someone other than Thranduil had just sat down near her. Gentle but knowing fingers claimed her wrist and settled on her pulse. "You were very nearly successful, weren't you?" Aragorn whispered.

"She is much improved since my Father arrived," Legolas commented from the direction of the door. "But I do not think she would have survived much longer had he not come."

"I'm here; please don't speak of me as if I were deaf or absent," Elara grumbled. "And I told you when last I saw you," she aimed her comment now at Aragorn, "that I had no reason to stay. Until just a few days ago..."

"I take it that has changed," Aragorn stated with a hint of humor as his hands moved knowingly across her shoulders and then down to pull aside the blanket to palpate her stomach.

"I want very much to live now," she admitted in an almost inaudible voice. "I want to go home."

Aragorn pulled the blanket back up over Elara's abdomen. "Home? To Eryn Lasgalen?" He sounded surprised.

"It is where she rightfully belongs, after all," Thranduil announced with a touch of pride. "When I leave, I shall take her with me."

"I have told Aran Thranduil that she will most likely have a long convalescence," Gelinnas spoke up in her soft voice. "I think he has hopes of removing her to the north after _Rhîw_ - but I am not certain she will be ready to travel by then."

"Is that what you want, Elara?" Aragorn asked Elara pointedly. "To go north with King Thranduil when it is time for him to return to his kingdom?"

"Yes." Elara's voice was still soft, but it was firm. "I want to go home."

"Are you ready to do whatever it takes?"

"She is," Thranduil answered for her without apology, brushing aside gasped protests from at least one other with a soft snort. "And when her dedication wavers, I will make certain she remains on the road to recovery. I have told her I expect nothing less than having her back in full health."

"Unfortunately, that may be stretching further than her body can go," Aragorn announced with a hint of sadness. "If this is what she looks like after having improved, then it is possible that she had already begun doing serious and permanent damage to her internal organs - her heart, for example. Even if she regains her health, chances are she will always be more fragile than she was before."

There was a long moment of silence where Elara knew Thranduil was wrestling with the idea of less than a complete recovery for her. Then: "But will she recover enough strength to endure the journey home?"

"You will have to follow the diet I set out for you without fail," Aragorn again addressed himself to Elara, "and you will have to exercise to gain strength back. And even after you have returned to Eryn Lasgalen, you will need to continue with the diet. The road back for you will not be a short or pleasant one, Elara; I will not lie to you."

"I will do what needs to be done," she told him firmly, wishing that Thranduil were close enough to hold her hand. Aragorn's statements were ominous and a little frightening. "Tell me what I have to do."

"First, believe that you can recover," Aragorn stated, his hands enfolding hers and giving them a small squeeze. "Attitude will be key to your success or failure. Of course, with King Thranduil here not even allowing you to doubt yourself, that may not be an issue. He is a hard person to argue with."

"Arrogance and hard headedness have their uses," Thranduil announced archly. "I have more than my share of both, or so I've been told."

"Very well. I will draw up a detailed diet and exercise regimen, and I'll give Gelinnas a list of herbal teas and tinctures that you should take to strengthen your heart and digestive system." Aragorn stood. "But I can do that all that elsewhere. I think we've tired Elara all that is necessary for the moment, and she should have a small snack and then a rest."

"What should I order for her?" Legolas asked immediately.

"A small glass of apple juice, a ginger cookie - if there are any in stock - and a mint tea to help settle things." Aragorn rose. "If there are no ginger cookies, then any light biscuit, or a small bite of _lembas_ if nothing else is available. I'll speak to the cook regarding supper for the evening." He bent and gave Elara a peck on the cheek. "I'm here until the storm outside clears, so I should have the time to make adjustments to amounts that will give us the quickest results." He straightened. "Thranduil, Gelinnas, I'd like to speak to you both for a moment, if I may..."

Elara leaned back into her pillows as she felt and heard the room empty around her. It was the first time she'd been genuinely alone in the past week, and it felt strange not to have Thranduil near her for a change. Her Elvenking had appointed himself her sole caregiver, only barely moving aside for Gelinnas to take charge of changing her attire in the mornings and evenings. Legolas had moved his evening meals to her apartment several times, and Elara had come to appreciate the genuine affection between father and son as displayed in the spirited and wickedly witty banter that had flown between the two.

"Tired?" Whatever Aragorn had to say to him must have been quick, and her musings engrossing, for she hadn't heard him return.

"A little," she admitted. "I haven't been around that many people for a long time."

"Perhaps you should nap now, before your snack arrives," he suggested, moving closer. "I'll awaken you when it gets here."

"Thranduil." Elara put out her hand in the direction of his voice and found it quickly captured by his. "Sit with me and tell me what Aragorn had to say to you." The Elvenking gave a heavy sigh as he moved to settle next to her on the bed, on top of the blankets as always, and slipped his arm behind her again to gather her close. "Tell me," she urged again.

"He worries about you," was all he would say before burying his face in her neck.

"He doesn't know that I will recover, does he?" she asked him gently. She felt him take a hitched breath and then, slowly, shake his head. She put her arms around his neck and held on tight. "I'm going to try, Thranduil - I give you my solemn oath that I will do whatever you and Aragorn and Gelinnas ask of me without too much argument. If the Valar are even half as merciful as you seem to think they are, they will let me regain my health."

He took another hitched breath, and Elara turned her head and pressed a kiss into his fragrant hair. For the first time since he'd arrived and taken complete charge of her welfare, Thranduil seemed less than confident in his own power to create events according to his own wishes. "Don't lose hope. I have heard it said somewhere that hope exists as long as there is life to sustain it. I'm still here, and here I'll stay for as long as the Valar will allow. You have said you would have nothing less from me."

It took a long moment, but finally he straightened and settled himself against the headboard of the bed so that he could draw her to him in a way in which they both knew she could rest easily. "You are right. I will accept nothing less than complete success in this venture, and I will entertain no other outcomes." The confident tone was back, but still sounded forced and hollow.

Elara sighed as she relaxed against the hard chest. He had been the rock to which she had clung for days now; it seemed only proper that he be allowed time for his own doubts and fears to surface from time to time. There was little response to what he was going through that would comfort him, but she stroked the back of her fingers over his warm cheek.

He nuzzled her hair for a moment. "Rest now - sleep. I'll awaken you when your snack arrives."

But in the tic of his thumb where it rested on her shoulder, she knew that he hadn't entirely let go of whatever it was that Aragorn had really told him. And it worried her as well. She wanted to go home! She _would_ go home. Like Thranduil, she would accept nothing less of herself.


	3. Chapter 3

"I can carry you, you know," Thranduil worried at her as her steps faltered to a stop. "This is twice as far as you've been walking..."

"Aragorn said I need to exercise. Besides, it isn't that far to Legolas' apartment, just don't walk too fast." Elara leaned on that strong arm with both hands. She wouldn't admit that she would have already fallen down by now without him beside her, supporting her. She _wouldn't_!

"I don't want you so exhausted by the time you get there that you can't stay awake to eat," he grumbled. "This is supposed to be a treat, not an ordeal. Elessar is here with the business of Gondor for a change. Legolas and I thought you could use some time in a different place with good company to bolster your mood."

"My mood is just fine," she grumbled back at him.

"In which case, we are working to make it just that much finer," Thranduil responded firmly. "A private supper in the company of family and close friends is just what your healer - and I as your Elvenking - have ordered." He patted her hand. "Ready to go on?"

Elara obediently put her feet in motion again; but more quickly than she would have liked, she found herself genuinely stumbling. "It's farther than I remember," she confessed finally.

"That does it, then." The Elvenking swooped in, one arm at her shoulders and the other sweeping at her knees, and in one move pulled her up into his arms. "I am not letting you overdo, even if you are getting better."

"You spoil me too much," she complained, knowing better this time than to squirm her protest. The last time she'd fussed too much when he'd picked her up to carry her, Thranduil had simply kept her in his arms and in his lap for an entire meal, despite Legolas' presence and blatant amusement at his father's outrageous behavior. She wasn't about to suffer the same embarrassment in front of the High King of Gondor.

"Of course I do," Thranduil replied proudly. "I fully expect you to walk back into my hall strong and healthy. If that means I need to pamper you now and then, so be it. And..."

"Now and then," Elara sniffed. His pampering was constant, and at times becoming overwhelming. As her health improved, she began to push for more independence, a chance to succeed or fail on her own and push her limits. She'd returned to her sewing circle, and started chasing Thranduil off from hovering over her there - much to the amusement of the ellith of the group - to lend his experience and expertise to his son.

Thranduil cleared his throat, deliberately sidestepping what was becoming a regular discussion that didn't always end well anymore. "And, as I was saying, your job is to accept my help - at least tonight - with a gracious smile."

"Oh goodness, Elara! What happened? Did you complain too much again?" Legolas chirped all too brightly.

"No..." Elara started, startled and embarrassed, but she was interrupted.

"What's wrong?" Aragorn asked worriedly from behind Thranduil's son. "Legolas, I thought you told me she is much improved in the weeks since last I saw her..."

"She _is_ much improved, but she still tires far too easily," the Elvenking explained in a firm but simple tone, "and I want her to enjoy the meal and the company tonight, not fall asleep in her food. Thank you, my son." He swung her through a door, past his son, and then deposited her gently on a couch. "Rest now, my gift." He seated himself next to her and kept his arm discreetly tucked around her waist. Elara allowed herself to lean into his strength gratefully. Sometimes it was nice to be spoiled.

"If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I don't think I'd believe it," Aragorn's voice chuckled from across the room. "King Thranduil, I commend you for being able to convince her to accept your help so easily. When I've tried..."

"My good King Elessar, it is all in the approach," Thranduil announced regally, although Elara could tell he was highly amused. "The trick is to simply offer her no reasonable alternative."

"Believe him, Estel," Legolas laughed. "And she has also learned better than to protest too much anymore. The last time she tried to resist when he'd decided she needed help, he..."

"I'm sitting right here, if you gentlemen hadn't noticed, and I wasn't aware that I was the evening's entertainment," Elara sounded off before Legolas could relate the embarrassing details of her episode in Thranduil's arms, treated like a wayward child and teased for it on top of it all by both father and son.

Her Elvenking's son merely chuckled at her defensiveness. "You have to admit, Elara, that you listen to my father far better than you've ever listened to Estel or myself; and you listen to him even quicker now than you did before he..."

"I've always listened to your father," Elara stated firmly, once more interrupting the story before it could get started.

"Most of the time," Thranduil offered, his voice smug. "You have done better since, though, I have to admit."

"I think I want to hear the story of what happened when you _didn't_ listen," Aragorn complained almost petulantly.

"She..." Legolas began again.

"You can ask Legolas about it - after I'm gone. Leave it to say that it's hard to argue very successfully with someone as... experienced as Thranduil," Elara spoke quickly, before he could get any further in the telling. "It is a tricky business, arguing with an immortal, and the cost can be measured in pride and embarrassment when it doesn't work, but it _can_ be done."

"I'm certain that if anyone could hold their own against King Thranduil, it would be you," Aragorn actually sounded sincere. "And I'll have to talk to you about it, _after_ I hear this story you won't let either of them tell. For what it's worth, I too find that, with Arwen, it is difficult to argue with thousands of years of experience greater than my own. All I want to do is make her life easier, and..."

"Arwen would enjoy being pampered, Elessar, if you put it to her in the proper way," Thranduil insisted. "You should have learned in your time in Elrond's home that the way of the Elves is the way of strength, the way of the warrior. This holds true as much for _ellith _as for _ellyn_. Arwen will be looking for you to honor her strength even as you offer your help - and then she will honor your strength in return by submitting to your pampering. But your gesture of respect must come first, or all you'll get is tears and argument."

"Is that what you did for Mother?" Legolas asked quietly.

"My son, your mother," Thranduil began just as quietly, "was more independent than any other _elleth_ I ever met, except, perhaps, the Lady Galadriel. She was Avari through and through: wild and stubborn and headstrong. I knew better than to not honor her strength when I wanted to convince her of something." Elara felt her Elvenking's fingers twine with her own, and she smiled. He was reassuring her of his love for her, even as he spoke of his wife, from whose side he was forever torn. "Elara is much like her in that respect: headstrong, stubborn, and as independent as she can be under the circumstance. I have to admit, however, that I rather enjoy attempting to tame her from time to time."

"_Tame_ me?" Elara sputtered, outraged. Thranduil patting her hand gently didn't help much, nor did Aragorn's not-so-subtle cough and then outright laugh.

"Yes, come to think of it, you _did_ look like you were enjoying yourself immensely that evening," Legolas began chuckling again as well. "And Elara was absolutely livid."

"It didn't help that you both kept laughing," Elara growled at Legolas now. "It really wasn't that funny, you know."

"Yes, it was!" Thranduil and Legolas answered together, and then cackled maniacally at each other.

Thranduil regained his composure first. "Then again, my son, you should have seen your mother those few times when I managed to get the upper hand! She didn't take it well either."

"Did you ever do to her what you did to..."

"Yes, once," Thranduil replied with chagrin, "and I wore a black eye for my efforts afterwards, I'll have you know!"

Elara sighed. "I should have thought of that."

"I have _got_ to hear this story!" Aragorn exclaimed.

oOoOo

Elara stood patiently as Gelinnas finished lacing up her new gown, a gift from her friends in the sewing circle. Crafted of rich, warm velvet, and in a green to match the occasion, she'd been told, it felt finer than anything she'd ever worn. As she felt firm fingers tucking the laces away, she turned her head in what she hoped was Thranduil's direction. "How do I look?"

"You begin to remind me once more of what you looked like in my hall," Thranduil rumbled at her from across the room, his deep voice rich and contented. "I shall be the envy of many this night."

Elara blushed. "We both know that not to be true, but thank you for saying it. I am no Elven beauty."

"And yet, my eyes will be on you alone, I guarantee," he said a little more softly. "_And_ I have a gift for you."

"I have no MidWinter's gift for you," she exclaimed sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, but you do - one you have already given me. This night with you is your gift to me, Elara _nîn_, and I am well content with it. Many were the times these past months that I worried that you would not be alive to help me celebrate MidWinter." The Elvenking had moved closer to her and now towered over her at her elbow. "Tonight I not only celebrate the turning of the seasons, but the return of one I love to a living world. And in honor of that occasion..." Elara felt something metallic being set very carefully in place high on her forehead and then the two ends tucked securely into the braids behind her ears.

Her fingers traced and studied the slender metal circlet, noting the way it curled around itself like a thin vine, with small flat tabs that could have been leaves. Her fingers followed the band until she came to where a small, flat, oval stone dangled at the very center of her forehead. "What..."

"I commissioned this to be made not long after I came to Ithilien. I decided that it would be yours - and a visible symbol of my regard for you - if you recovered."

"It's beautiful, Sire, and you look quite lovely, _hîril nîn_," Gelinnas patted Elara's other hand and then relinquished it to the Elvenking's keeping. "I shall leave you in the hands of your escort now, and see you later in the Hall."

"Thank you, Gelinnas," Elara smiled at her healer-friend, a little taken aback at the unusual formality in her form of address. "And thank you for all you've done for me." She smoothed her hands over the still-too-flat bodice of the gown and waited for the click of the door that told her she was once more alone with her Elvenking, and then put up a tentative finger to again toy with the pendant stone on her forehead. "I'm afraid you're decorating a mushroom, Thranduil. I still look more like something used to startle birds from a ripening field of corn,"

"Stop that! You look fine," Thranduil chuckled, his huge hand swallowing hers in directing it to its spot on his nearest arm. "You were always thin, you know, thinner than many _edenith_. At this moment, especially with the circlet, you look more like an _elleth_ than ever; just a rather short one."

They began walking, with Elara no longer needing to lean quite so heavily on his arm for support or assistance. Still, he did not hurry their pace down the long corridor that led to the Great Hall, from which the sounds of lively music and happy voices spilled as if from an overfilled goblet. "Tell me what you see," she asked him as they drew near to the revelry.

"They have the entire hall set about with evergreen boughs that hold crystals to catch the light, and with holly branches with berries. There are tall red and silver candles along the walls, and green candles at every table. The servants are dressed in the red and silver ceremonial livery of Legolas' hall. And it looks as if we're just in time, because I can see Legolas still sitting in front of an empty plate."

"Has the feast not started yet then?"

"Not quite. I believe they were waiting for our arrival. Steady on now..." He moved his hand to hold hers on his arm, giving her a gentle squeeze; and she felt him straighten to his full height before stepping forward, pulling her with him.

"Aran Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen and his Lady, Elara," announced the door ward in his stentorian voice that carried easily over the revelry in the hall.

Elara hesitated, stunned by her introduction to the other feast participants. She'd attended many feasts in Thranduil's hall, and never had she been announced by name when she'd entered the hall. She also was well enough acquainted with Elven etiquette to know that those who had been announced as someone's "Lady" had generally been that someone's...

"Thranduil..."

"No, no stopping. Protocol dictates that after being announced, we keep walking to our table," Thranduil patted her hand and gently pulled her forward with him. "Happy MidWinter, my gift." His voice thrummed with satisfaction and pride.

"But..."

"We'll discuss it later, I promise. But now Legolas is waiting for us to join him so that he can begin the feast." Thranduil moved them smoothly and surely to the front of the room and then up onto the raised platform that held the head table. He pulled out a chair for her and leaned down to whisper into her ear. "Don't sit yet. As attending royalty, we have formalities to get through yet."

Elara's head spun while contemplating what he had said so casually. "_Attending royalty?" " We_??"

"Aran Thranduil, Lady," Legolas sounded just as smug and satisfied as his father ever had as he spoke so that all the hall could hear. "You grace our MidWinter feast this year."

"We are pleased to be able to share this time with you, my son," Thranduil announced in his louder and very regal public voice. "My Lady and I are grateful for all the hospitality and aid we have enjoyed in your hall."

Elara listened in a daze as Legolas offered a toast and Thranduil placed a small wineglass in her hand. The sensation of the small stone tapping against her forehead with every move she made told her something very important had just happened; and that, most likely, the strange strip of metal about her forehead was part of it. Then Thranduil nudged her to remind her to sip at the wine in her glass in answer to the toast; and then he was making a toast of his own, to which she again raised her glass and sipped without really hearing what it was she was toasting.

"We sit now," his voice sounded in her ear, and his hand at her elbow guided her into her chair.

"Well, you certainly surprised her, Father, just as you predicted," Legolas chuckled from where he sat just beyond the Elvenking. "Did you see the expression on her face when you were announced?"

As usual at meals with an Elven community, Thranduil was guiding Elara's hand to find cutlery and wine glass. "I did indeed," he replied, his tone very proud, satisfied and amused. "And, if you notice, she's still not entirely paying attention to us yet. Elara, if you fail to pay attention to me now, you will knock over your wine, you know..."

Elara forced her mind to follow what was being said. "I am too paying attention," she complained, although the far-away tone of her own voice gave lie to her words. Still, an explanation was needed. "Thranduil..."

"Later, I said, when we're alone again," he bent to her ear and rumbled at her in a rich voice that not only thrilled with a whole new set of nuances of tone that she'd never heard before, but left her still confused. "Now, do you want some of that delicious fish you like so well, or the venison this evening?"

Elara directed his careful filling of her plate with portions that, while still much smaller than most would find normal, would satisfy her Elven lord's definition of adequate for her. She reached out and found the wineglass and sipped at the watered beverage thoughtfully, feeling very much out of her depth. But both Thranduil and Legolas were in high spirits, and it didn't take long before their gentle teasing and then the usual banter between them made her laugh and give up trying to figure out the precise nature of the change that had happened until, as her Elvenking had promised, later.

oOoOo

"I've kept you up too late. You look exhausted." Thranduil closed the apartment door and resumed his place at her side. "Do you wish me to carry you the rest of the way?" He took firm hold of her arm to give her support as they continued on into her bedroom when she shook her head at him.

"Don't feel guilty. I enjoyed the evening, and I believe this is actually a good tired." Elara sat, as directed, on the edge of her bed. "I should sleep well tonight." She lifted her hands to the circlet. "Help me get this off..."

Gentle fingers dislodged the metal ends from her braids and lifted the circlet away. "This is the bag that it belongs in when you're not wearing it," he announced, handing her what felt like very rich velvet and then letting her hold the bag open while he slipped the circlet inside. "Where do you want it - or shall I just keep it with mine?"

"Thranduil, you promised to explain..." she protested, ignoring his question. "And we're alone now..."

The mattress next to her dipped as he seated himself next to her. "Yes, I did promise, didn't I?" He turned her away from him slightly and began to pull out pins that held braids in place and then to tease the hair free again. "Very well. The simplest answer is you were proclaimed the Lady of Eryn Lasgalen, and Legolas made it official tonight."

"But... We're not... are we?"

"No, we're not." His fingers slowed for a moment. "That is a step that I cannot take with you, as you well know."

"But then... How..." Elara toed off her slippers and pushed them carefully beneath the bed, where she'd be able to find them in the morning.

He resumed his work on her hair. "Tonight you became the Lady of Eryn Lasgalen. I have the authority to entitle you thusly, and I did. Legolas was very pleased to be the Lord responsible for overseeing the announcement."

"But how can I be your Lady? What about Lalaith..."

"Lalaith died long before there ever was an Eryn Lasgalen. The wood that she ruled over with me was called Eryn Galen - the Greenwood. She was, is, and always will be _Aranel_ Lalaith of Eryn Galen. That title will never go to another, just as yours will belong to you until the breaking of the world, whether you are here to hold it or not."

Elara turned, reached up and caught his hands in hers. "Thranduil, I still don't understand. If I'm not your wife, how can I be the Lady of Eryn Lasgalen?"

He tutted at her and reclaimed his hands to firmly turn her back away from him again and resume his work with her hair. "I may not be able to take you to wife, but I will no longer deny what you mean to me. I also will not hide our relationship from the world as if I were guilty of oath-breaking, which I am not. Naming you as my Lady gives you privileges and protections you need for when I'm not around, for it declares officially that you are first in my heart. It also gives you legitimate standing in my realm and my hall - you are no longer a guest who happens to room in the royal wing by my decree, but a full member of my family with every right to be there. All will know that you are not my wife, but you are as dear to me as if you were; and they will treat you accordingly."

Her hair finally completely undone, Thranduil threaded his fingers through the long locks, combing them back, and then began plaiting a single braid in preparation for sleeping. "The circlet I gave you is one I designed during those first frightening days with you here, while you slept so soundly and I could not be certain that you would awaken again. I had brought the stone and the mithril with me from my treasury, and I asked Legolas to commission Gimli of Aglarond himself to craft it for me. I am well pleased with the result. The stone is an emerald leaf, to represent Eryn Lasgalen; and it hangs amid mithril vines and leaves that will never fade or fall, just as my regard for you will last past the breaking of the world."

"Mithril?" Elara gaped. She'd never even seen mithril before losing her sight - and here she'd been wearing it openly at a feast.

"Yes, mithril," he repeated with emphasis. "Your circlet is my way of telling the world how valuable you are to me; and when you wear it, your title as Lady of Eryn Lasgalen will be as clear to all as if announced by a door-ward at the beginning of a feast."

"But..."

"Yes?" His voice sounded amused and patient.

She refused to be sidetracked by humor. "What about what Galadriel said..."

"I have not forgotten what she said." She felt him tie off the end of her braid and begin loosening the laces on her gown. "There was indeed a time when prudence demanded that you remain in the background; and unfortunately, it coincided with other unwise decisions on my part regarding our relationship. That time is ended, as far as I'm concerned, as are all of the things that kept us from what the Valar intended for us. Those who disapprove of what I've done can just pack up and find another Elven enclave to live in."

Elara swallowed as the gown began to slip from her shoulders, aided by long fingers. "Um... Thranduil, what are you doing?"

"Getting you ready for bed - what did you think?"

She gathered the loose edges of her gown to her to keep it from falling further away from her and exposing her undergarments. "Where is Gelinnas? Is she not coming?"

"No. She and her husband were still dancing when last I saw them." His voice grew soft, and his hands stilled on her shoulders. "Do you distrust me, Elara _nîn_?"

She frowned. "Of course not. But..."

"Then be at peace," he purred at her. "The eyes that look at you now are fond ones, and the hands that would help you desire nothing more than to assure your comfort. Nothing inappropriate will happen between us - as much as I love you, there can never be passion between us. You know this."

"I know," she admitted. "But you've never..."

A large hand framed her face. "Tell me, how often have we slept together in this very bed - with you beneath the blankets and me above, holding you through the night?"

Elara blushed at the thought. "Every night since you came. You said you rested better that way, and I know that I do too." Her blush grew hotter with the confession.

"Then think of this as nothing more than an extension of that closeness. Gelinnas is celebrating the MidWinter with her husband, as is only right. You are exhausted and need to seek your pillow early, lest our revelries this night cause you to lose some of the roses that are just finally beginning to bloom in your cheeks again. I am right here at hand, willing to help you prepare for bed." He bent forward and brushed her cheek with his lips. "Let me help you. Please. I shall see nothing that is not already very dear to me, and I shall touch you with nothing other than honor and respect."

Slowly her hands dropped away from the loosened neckline of her gown, and Thranduil very gently guided the warm garment and the one beneath it off of her shoulders to fall to her waist. "Stand, for just a moment," he directed, and when she did, both gown and chemise slid down her body to puddle at her feet. "Arms up," he ordered next, and a fresh-smelling sleeping gown slipped over her head and arms and was tugged into place, with her braid then pulled out to lay over her shoulder.

She heard him fuss with the bed, and then state, "Sit." When she obeyed, she felt him gently ease her stockings from her calves and feet. "Very well - in you go," he directed finally. Her blankets settled warmly over her the moment she was prone, and then he sat down next to her on the bed. "There. Was that so bad?"

Elara shook her head slowly. He'd actually been quite efficient - disrobing and dressing her with a gentle and impersonal touch much like Gelinnas' - and then getting her settled. "It's just that..." She blushed again. "The last man who saw me..."

"Ah." The deep voice was filled with understanding. Thranduil leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose, then rose. Elara heard him move to the hearth and prepare the fire for another long, cold night. He then moved about the room, his audible puffs of breath telling her that he was extinguishing candles and lamps. Finally came the sound of his own disrobing and climbing into his silken sleep wear and a warm evening robe; and at last, he settled onto his side of the bed on the top of her blankets.

"Come here," he rumbled at her as he did every night. And as she had done every night since his miraculous return to her, she rolled toward him and settled her head on his chest, with her arm outstretched over him to hold him back.

This night, however, a gentle finger beneath her chin turned her face up to him. "I love you very much - and this night, I would show you as much of that as I can, if you will allow." The single finger turned into fingers curled and holding the side of her face. "May I kiss you?"

"You kiss me often," she protested at first, but then drew in a surprised breath as the full meaning of what he was really asking finally sunk in. "Yes," she whispered, awed and suddenly shy.

Thranduil bent and brushed his lips over hers, his kiss as soft and gentle as a summer breeze. From the back of her mind she felt a sudden wash of warmth flood through her that gave her a sense of utter contentment that she'd never felt before in her life - and a feeling of having returned to a much-loved home wrapped itself around her until she knew herself to be as embraced and cherished through their mental bond as she was by his arms and his kiss. She felt his heartbeat and hers find and hold rhythm together for the space of the timeless moment he held his lips against hers. _Elara nîn. At last I can give you this._

Elara brought her hand up to cup the strong square jaw as the delicate kiss ended. _I love you, Thranduil, and I always will, to the ends of the world and beyond_, she answered him, filling her mental voice with as much love as she could manage and never meaning it more than she did in that moment. No, there had been no passion; but while passion might have made the moment even more perfect, with that kiss, he had just offered her far more than she had ever dreamed could be hers.

His face turned enough to press another kiss into the palm of her hand. _Go to sleep now, Elara nîn - hîril Eryn Lasgalen - and may the stars themselves guard your dreams._

_I don't need stars,_ she told him with quiet simplicity. _I have you watching over me, and I can think of no other protector I would rather have._ With a contented and tired sigh, she wrapped her arm back over his chest, rested her head where his heartbeat pulsed comfort and security into her ear, breathed in fresh-cut grass and warm forest, and gave herself over to dreams that were nearly - but not quite - as pleasant as her waking hours were.

oOoOo

She could feel it in the tension that flowed through Thranduil's body behind her, and in the sudden spirited spring in Aduial's step. They were very close. She leaned back into him and felt his arm tighten about her waist. "We're almost there," he confirmed for her, bending his lips down to close to her ear. "Only an hour or so more, and you won't have to sit a-horseback again until or unless you actually want to." He kissed her hair.

_That_ would be a blessing. He'd prepared her as best he could - taking her out on horseback every day once the chill of Winter had thawed into the freshness of Spring to become accustomed to being held in front of him on a moving mount. But still, the many hours on the constantly moving back of his spirited war stallion over the past weeks of their journey had sapped her strength and, at the beginning, her ability to even walk in the evenings. She had hurt enough that she didn't even care that he'd carried her from Aduial each evening to her place at the campfire in front of the five Elven warriors that Legolas had insisted in sending along with them. No doubt the lack of privacy of camping in the wild meant that those same warriors had probably even seen glimpses of her Elven lord massaging a healing ointment into the stiff muscles of her legs and backside.

A voice rang out toward them in song, and she felt her Elvenking lift his head and sing an answering melody in his rich, deep bass. She knew that melody - he'd sung it to her often enough during the long days of their journey that she'd learned both the melody and the words - and she began to hum.

"Sing with me," he prompted, breaking his own singing to make the demand. The song from afar had more voices to it now - and the harmony was one of extreme joy and welcome. "Sing with me," he urged again. "Let them know that you return as well." Again he began his melody; and at another not-so-subtle squeeze and poke in the ribs by the large hand that held her securely in front of him, Elara opened her mouth and shyly joined her voice to his.

The response from the distant voices was immediate - they increased in volume and number, and the welcome that suddenly poured from the song was beyond anything Elara had ever experienced. She was momentarily overwhelmed by the knowledge that the joy and welcome was for her as well as the Elvenking. And then suddenly, the pulsing that she knew came from the Greenwood itself gathered itself in the back of her mind and pointedly drew her back into the rhythm of life that was Eryn Lasgalen. She could hear rustling around her, and knew that not only were they now safely beneath the boughs of the wood, but that the trees themselves were singing a welcome of their own.

Her voice caught in her throat, and she leaned back against Thranduil as tears of relief and gratitude began flowing down her cheeks. He bent to her and brushed a kiss over her ear. "All of Eryn Lasgalen welcomes its Lady home," he whispered to her. "We shall be able to celebrate our MidSummer beneath our own trees after all, just as I had hoped."

"We're home," she whispered to herself and felt Thranduil's arm tighten around her in response. "You brought me home."

"As I promised I would," he told her, his voice deep and rich with satisfaction and pride. "What's more, you should have no doubts left that you belong here, in the Greenwood, with me. As it does with me, I know the wood has reached out and claimed you as its own. I felt it happen." He nuzzled her hair. "Do not weep, now. Hold your head high, my gift. Your people would see you rejoice and take pride in your safe return."

Elara sniffled and then straightened and pulled herself together. He was right - this was no time for tears. She cleared her throat, and when she raised her voice again, her song of return grew strong and sure. As Thranduil joined her again, she could hear the pride and sense of accomplishment in his singing, and could feel the possessiveness in his arm about her. Yes, she belonged in the Greenwood - and most definitely she belonged to the Elvenking, and he to her. She would walk into his hall with her health as restored as it could be, just as he had demanded of her - and she would not willingly leave him, or his realm, again.

She was home to stay.

FIN


End file.
